Misery Business
by tendernesss
Summary: After Sectionals. Santana's feeling a little forgotten.     I wrote this awhile ago and just found it again on my hard drive.


"Misery Business"

It's not that she disliked Artie. Well, not really. Maybe a little. But, that's only because there has always been a certain distaste for humanity in the back of her head. On the tip of her tongue. Those verbal lashings she was so prone to giving out? Well those really weren't her fault. Humans could either step it up and stop acting like retarded monkeys who needed to be spoon fed encouragement or they needed to buy some thicker skin. Santana Lopez was not the kind of girl who dolled out things like pity or boost of confidence for Lima losers with low self esteem and body image issues. Fix yourself! Or stay out of her way.

She tightened her clench on her slushie, took a sip and fought down her gag reflex. Oh wait, who is she kidding there is no gag reflex. Puck took care of that like three years ago. Her first sexual encounter was punctuated by a hairy arm squeezing her neck, loud groans of what she guessed was pleasure and the ruining of her favorite v-neck sweater. The pink one that they stopped selling because some self righteous Americans decided to lobby against sweatshops. If they really cared they would've just bought the workers a bomb ass air conditioning system and let them do their damn jobs. But, anyway.

Her point was that she didn't dislike Artie that much. In fact, if she had to choose someone that she disliked the least he would rank very high. He would be number 2. Wheezy would definitely be number 1. Singing with her was vocal bliss that Santana could not deny. Yeah Artie was in a wheel chair. But, that wasn't his fault, right? He was in accident or something? Or was he born all broken? She was almost certain he had told her what happened what. She's positive that at the time she didn't care enough to actually listen. But, he wasn't a crybaby like that Jewish girl. He didn't sound like an idiot, like Finnocence. He wasn't trying to put his hand in her pants like Puck. He was mostly forgettable. Like those Asian kids. Speaking of, she was pretty sure they were brother and sister until she walked into the choir room and caught them making out. But, then again this is Lima, Ohio. They could definitely still be related-

"Santana?" The voice belonged to Artie. She shook herself from her musings and let her eyes focus. There he sat in front of her, eyes wide with shock. Trapped between the locker and her body. She'd been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she hadn't realized that she was slithering through the crowded hallway on the prowl for a boy in a wheelchair and maybe even a little vindication.

But, why she wanted to be vindicated she still wasn't sure of.

Artie tried to maneuver himself past her, but she stood in place. A wild, frantic look in her eyes. The kind of look Rachel gets when someone tries to take a solo from her. It was terrifying, but he was trying to stand his ground. So to speak.

He contorted his face into a strained smile, tried to calm his heart beat. He placed his hands in his lap and pushed his face upward to look her in the eye. "You were really good yesterday."

Oh yeah.

Yesterday.

Yesterday was sectionals. Yesterday she blew an entire crowd away. Yesterday she put a pulse back into this dead, dried up town. Yesterday everyone loved her. And everyone told her they loved her.

Except Brittany.

Brittany was too preoccupied with macking on wheelchair boy to even throw out something as simple as a "Good job."

Or an "I'm proud of you."

Because that's all Santana could think the entire time she was performing. She knew the lyrics to Valerie like the back of her hand and working a crowd has never been a problem. But, she was watching Brittany. She was watching Brittany and she was breathless. She had never been so proud of anyone else in her entire life than that moment on stage with Brittany. All eyes on them. And yeah, Mike Chang. But, he was really good too. Not as good as Brittany, but definitely up to par to parade with them.

When it was over and everyone backstage forgot that deep down they kind of disliked each other and there was hugs and unity, all Santana wanted to do was tell Brittany how great she was. But, she couldn't because Artie was busy doing it for her. Busy kissing Brittany. And holding Brittany's hand. And looking the way she would've looked if, in that moment, she was standing by Brittany's side.

"Santana?"

There was Artie's voice again. Pitifully small. She pulled herself back to the present. Back to the clamoring hallway. Back to the funky fluorescent lights of William McKinley High.

Artie wasn't looking her in the eye anymore, instead he stared at the slushie. Her hand was freezing cold and shaking. This early morning slushie business wasn't personal. Because, again, Artie was number 2 on her mental list of who she hated the least. With a grin, she let it fly. Grape goo flew. It splattered across his face and into the lockers. An applause broke out. A couple football players let out some cat calls.

Tossing the cup onto Artie's lap, she turned to find Brittany standing there, shock and confusion playing like a puppet show across her facial features. Squaring her shoulders, Santana sauntered by her blond friend and down the hall to first period.

Maybe, just maybe, that slushie was a little bit personal.

Lima, Ohio had about two weeks of perfect weather. It came right after fall, before winter set itself in for the next four months. The sun was still shining, but the air was crisp and cool, not freezing. A very light jacket was all one needed. Santana titled her face skywards and let the air fill her lungs. Her decision to skip third period had been for the best, she was sure of it now. Mr. Jenkins, the History teacher, always smelled like salami and his eyes always had a way of locking on to her chest, not so conspicuously. A shadow fell against her face. She opened her eyes to find Brittany standing in front of her.

"I'm in third period right now and you're not there." Brittany stated matter-of-factly as she sat down next to the other girl.

"I'm taking a mental health day." Santana said as she scooted away.

Why did she scoot away?

"My parents took one of those once. They came back like a week later with red faces and a completely crazy story about catching something called a sea lion in a crab net." Brittany replied unfazed by Santana's retreating.

"Sea lions, huh?"

"Yeah and I was like mom, don't be stupid, lions can't swin."

Santana let out a small, throaty chuckle. Tilting her head to the side she watched as Brittany's emotions played across her face. She wasn't sure what exactly was going on inside the blond's head, but she knew it wasn't good. And she knew she had caused it.

"Brittany?"

"Yeah?"

"You have something to say." Santana stated, reminding Brittany to use her words.

"You slushied Artie." Her voice came out small.

Santana mentally kicked herself. She didn't want to hurt Brittany. At least, she didn't think she wanted to hurt Brittany.

"I slushie everyone. I'm actually thinking of getting Berry today after Glee." Santana replied reasonably.

"I though you liked Artie."

"Why in the hell would you think that?" Santana asked incredulously.

"Because I like him."

"Yeah, I know." Santana bit back immediately regretting not being able to mask whatever jumbled emotion that had escaped from her mouth. Brittany heard it too.

"Why do you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I shouldn't like him."

Santana didn't have an answer to this question. Which was so unlike her. She had answer for everything. Especially things that dealt with Brittany. But, not this time. She begin to fiddle with a fraying red thread at the bottom of her Cheerios jacket.

"Santana?"

"You can like whoever you want, Brittany. I don't care. I just think it's super crappy that you can't hang out with me anymore because you're way too busy with wheelchair boy." Santana replied. This was honesty. It kind of hurt.

"We hang out still." Brittany replied positioning herself on the bleachers to face Santana.

"We hang out when you have time. When you're not babysitting your boyfriend."

Santana wasn't trying to be mean. She was trying to match Brittany's even voice. She was trying to remain calm. Trying and failing.

"I didn't see you for two weeks straight when Puck got out of Juvie."

"So?"

"I didn't get mad at you."

Santana let the silence swallow up Brittany's small voice. This was a conversation she would rather not be having. If it was anyone else she would've just told them to get lost and went on with her day. But, it wasn't. It was Brittany and one thing that Santana had come to realize and accept over the course of their five year friendship is that, she could not be mean to Brittany.

Letting out a defeated breath of air, Santana's shrugged, "I just miss my best friend, you know?"

"Know what?"

"I miss you."

Brittany grinned as she leaned over to wrap her arms around Santana. Santana let her arms nestle around the blond's small frame.

This was definitely honesty.


End file.
